Once he’s settled for the night, Dinah asks David wearily if he’ll take her home. I walk with them to his car, which is parked around the corner, in Fleet Road.

‘Jump in, Fern. I’ll drop you off afterwards,’ he says to me.

At Dinah’s, the grey smoke is still drifting up behind the house and I go with her to her door. She flexes her shoulders and puts the key in the lock, hesitating before opening it. She grips my wrist and looks up into my face anxiously. ‘Who would think that this day would end like this?’

‘I know.’ I feel a rush of love for her. ‘I hope you get some sleep. Call me if … well, for any reason,’ I tell her.

She pats my hand. ‘I will. Good girl.’

I’m touched; it’s a long time since I’ve been called that.

As I get back in the car, David turns to look at me.

I can see part of his face lit up by the street lamp.

‘Where to?’ he asks.

‘What are the choices?’ I reply, half joking, raking my smoky fringe out of my eyes. ‘Fancy going clubbing, do you? If I stay out long enough, my mother’ll be in bed when I get back.’

‘You mean Annabel.’

I laugh. ‘Yes, Annabel.’

He looks serious. ‘You don’t have to go back, Fern. You could stay at my place.’

I feel a sudden adrenaline rush. ‘What?’

‘I’ve got a spare room.’

‘Phew, ha ha,’ I say, trying to sound normal in a ‘good old Fern’ way. But, oh, the thought of a real bed, of actually lying flat for a few hours’ sleep instead of bent up on the sofa, is so appealing. ‘That would be brilliant.’

‘Yeah?’ He grins. ‘Let’s go, then.’

He drives towards Chalk Farm and turns left down Harmood Street before pulling up outside a small house with a red front door flanked by two olive trees in terracotta pots.

‘This is it,’ he says.

I look at the house through the car window and time seems to slow. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. It looks so neat and he’s so warm, and now the idea that I’m going there so that I can lie in a spare bed by myself shows a woeful lack of imagination.

I lean back against the headrest and meet his gaze. His eyes search mine and linger in a way that goes deeper than friendship.

‘Fern,’ he says softly.

I touch the hook at the throat of my blue velvet evening coat and undo it because it’s suddenly too restricting. ‘Yes?’ I can feel the heat between us as I hold his gaze.

‘Let’s go inside,’ he says.